Insomniac
We are all standing single file waiting for our turn to plunge into the deep, dark abyss.
At night I wonder, how often do two lives end in perfect unison on opposite sides of the world?
How often do parents die in unison with children?
Who will I be united within that final instant of existence before the light drains from my eyes, and as I immediately cease to be, what other individual loses their identity and all they ever were?
Whose corpse starts to decay in perfect rhythm with mine?
And as I wonder, I realize why I have restless nights.
This poem is about:
Me